Uncle Gobber
by muggleborn.dragon.ryder
Summary: When Stoick leaves to search for the nest, Gobber and a select few others are left behind to defend the island against possible attacks. But when Hiccup falls ill, only Gobber is there to care for him. While he may be a fine blacksmith, Gobber is bad at other things...like getting certain, stubborn redheads to do what he wants... Pre-movie!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, no idea where this came from. No idea...This is more than a one-shot. This is going to be a (rather short) fully fledged chapter story :) So buckle up and enjoy! Also, a review here and there couldn't hurt**

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The mid morning sun stared down at the little Isle of Berk, the autumn leaves gently falling.

Gobber hummed happily to himself as he worked in the forge, banging away happily on a new sword. It was clear they needed more weapons after what had happened last night.

The dragon attack had been the worst they'd ever seen. The dragons had torched roofs, stolen sheep, and Hiccup had run out in the middle of the attack – again.

Gobber sighed when he thought of Hiccup. The scrawny little fishbone, his apprentice, never thought too deeply before doing something, especially when it seemed promising enough to help him kill a dragon.

The boy was growing up fast – too fast, in Gobber's opinion. Where once he had been short and young, with innocent, grass-green eyes and an open smile, he was taller and lanky, with hardened eyes and a sarcastic sense of humor, but no smile in sight.

Gobber was going to miss the innocent young boy he'd been, but they all had to grow up sometime.

Speaking of Hiccup, he thought, glancing at the tattered red curtain that hid Hiccup's workplace from the rest of the forge.

He either wasn't there or hadn't come out since Gobber had entered. Gobber was willing to bet it was the second one. Hiccup rarely spoke to anyone except Gobber and he'd become increasingly quieter over the past few weeks.

Gobber put his weapon down and withdrew the curtain, looking behind it. A few drawings fluttered in the sudden breeze, but there was no red-haired fishbone in sight.

Just an empty work desk with a leather journal open, displaying a drawing of a weapon.

Oh, that boy was going to go on to be the most brilliant Viking of the age, Gobber was sure…

But in a world where brains didn't matter and brawn did, Hiccup would willingly have given it all up for a place on Berk where he fit in.

And he wasn't here, thought Gobber worriedly. Judging by the position of the sun alone, he would have guessed it was high noon.

Hiccup should have been here by now…

Chewing his lip worriedly, he decided to check on the boy.

Stoick had just gone out at dawn that day to find the dragons' nest again, leaving Gobber and a few others behind to defend the island.

Gobber hurried towards the chief's hut first. Hiccup was more likely to be in the forest, but old habits died hard and Gobber decided to go to his home first.

The moment he got in there, he knew Hiccup was there.

There were loud bumps and crashes coming from one of the upstairs rooms.

Gobber walked up the stairs, his prosthetic thumping and dragging behind him. He reached Hiccup's door and knocked softly.

The din from inside ceased. "Come in," called a very tired voice, followed by a long bout of coughing.

Gobber opened the door and saw the boy sitting on his bed, cheeks bright red. He was coughing violently and his hair wasn't the usual rich auburn, instead a drained, lifeless brown.

Hiccup was perched on the extreme edge of his bed, messing with the blankets a little, one hand over his mouth so he wouldn't cough on anything. When he finally managed to stop, he looked up at Gobber miserably. "Sorry, Gobber. I was coming to the forge; I just got a little sidetracked…"

Gobber crossed the room in two strides and felt the boy's forehead. "Hiccup, you're sick."

"I am not," protested Hiccup, folding his arms and glaring. For a second, he looked like the little boy Gobber missed, and the man chuckled.

"Hiccup, c'mon. You don't have to come to the forge today if you're sick."

"Which I'm not," protested Hiccup again, slightly angrier this time. "Besides…" he coughed again. "…I promised you I'd be in today. I don't break promises."

"You're not," chuckled Gobber. "I just released you from it, Hiccup."

Hiccup sighed.

"Why don't you go back to sleep?" suggested Gobber.

"I'm not sick."

"You don't have to be to sleep, Hiccup."

"Yeah, I know, but Dad only lets me sleep in when I'm sick."

"Well, you kind of are, anyway," pointed out Gobber. "C'mon, Hiccup."

Hiccup chewed his lip. "If I don't have to come to the forge today, I guess I can sleep for a little longer. But you are the one who taught me Vikings don't get sick, remember?"

Gobber laughed. He couldn't help it. The look in Hiccup's bright green eyes, the tone of his voice, it just tickled Gobber to no end.

Hiccup crossed his arms as he waited for Gobber to stop laughing.

When he did, Hiccup sighed. "When you leave, just don't tell Snotlout anything, okay? The last thing I need is for him to come around, calling me Useless because I got _sick_…"

"Would I tell Snotlout?" asked Gobber, looking wounded. "Also, Hiccup, what do you mean, when I leave? I'm staying here."

"What? Why?" Hiccup looked truly puzzled.

"Because your dad's gone, and you're sick!" Gobber pointed out. "You can't just be left alone! You could go out and get sicker!"

"Thor, Gobber, when did you become my mother?" interjected Hiccup, though a smile threatened at the corners of his lips.

"Lay down," Gobber advised, scowling. "Just lay down."

Hiccup lay back down, yawning a little. "I'll be fine."

"Are you hungry?"

"No, not really. I haven't been all morning."

"Well, you at least need some water," declared Gobber. "I'll go down to the well and get you some. Or maybe I'll smack Snotlout til _he _does it…"

"Please don't," pleaded Hiccup. "And I don't need this…"

"Yes, you do," said Gobber. "Will you be okay if I leave you alone?"

"_Yes_," reiterated Hiccup.

He sighed as Gobber left the room, then swallowed. His throat hurt like hell. He knew he probably should've just sucked it up and gone to the forge, because all the other Vikings on Berk could have done it, but he hadn't gotten ready fast enough. He had been pulling on his boots and knocking into things because of how tired he was when Gobber had entered and announced he was not going to the forge that day.

Gobber had always been a very laid-back type person (all Vikings were – except Hiccup, of course) and this fatherly side of the man was starting to freak Hiccup out.

But he just lay back down and thought about it, at least until Gobber's thumping footsteps alerted him to the fact that the man was back.

When Gobber got up the stairs, he was holding a small mug of water. "Here." He said, "Drink a little."

Hiccup sighed and took the mug from the man, sitting up. He drank for a few long minutes. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was until just now.

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Thanks."

"You might not want to drink anymore just yet," warned Gobber. "You haven't had anything to eat or drink all day and too much at one time could cause a stomachache or something."

"My stomach already hurts," Hiccup replied with a shrug, but he set the mug down.

"Go back to sleep, if you want," Gobber encouraged. "I'll be right here."

Hiccup nodded, sinking back into the pillow. "I still think it's dumb for you to blow off work just for me."

"There are a few weapons that need fixing," admitted Gobber. "But really, only two or three. And there are some I still need to make, but it'll be fine."

"Which is why you should leave," said Hiccup in a muffled voice. He had drawn the covers up over his head, an old habit from his childhood whenever he didn't feel safe. He barely noticed he did it anymore; it was force of habit. "Also, Vikings don't get sick. You don't have to stay."

"Oh, yes, I do," countered Gobber. "Hiccup, something could happen to you when you're alone. Thor knows you attract trouble like you're a little magnet for it…"

"Not my fault," Hiccup countered.

"And for Odin's sake, take the blanket off your head, Hiccup. You'll suffocate."

The blanket disappeared and a head full of fuzzy auburn hair poked out. "I'll be fine. When did you become a mother hen?"

Gobber huffed. "I'm _not_ being a mother hen, I'm just _worried_…"

There was a silence.

"Do you want to hear about my hammerhead yak days?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, I wrote this chapter in a total burst of inspiration. :) I really like it, except I got a little out of control in the beginning...Gobber just PONDERED his relationship with Hiccup for a LONG time. But what was I going to do? Hiccup was ASLEEP. I wanted to have at least ONE scene where it was just Gobber's thoughts.**

**Also, there's a poll on my page xD Who would like to vote on it? It's asking which story you guys would like to see from me next and as I recognize almost all the people who like this story, I know you guys read past stories of mine. If you're impressed with my writing, go vote! **

**Please.**

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Gobber wished he could contact Stoick. He had put Hiccup to sleep with one of his Boneknapper stories, but he wasn't sure how long the boy would sleep for.

Not wanting to leave him alone with no explanation of where he'd gone, Gobber decided to stay. Besides, what if Hiccup woke and needed something that he couldn't get for himself?

Gobber was beginning to realize why Stoick was so uptight all the time; looking after a child, especially one like Hiccup, was hard work!

It was strange for the blacksmith to be this wound about something that could be as small as a cold; normally, he was the least worried person in the whole Archipelago.

Hiccup was a special case, though. Gobber cared for the boy like a father did a son, or an uncle did his favorite nephew and so he puttered about the house, worrying.

He decided to go upstairs and check on Hiccup.

A peaceful scene met his eyes. The boy was sleeping, russet hair tousled, green eyes closed, eyelids fluttering slightly. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

He was sleeping on his side, knees pulled up to his chest, hands curled into fists and tucked against his skinny chest.

He shifted a little in sleep, smile disappearing as he felt a slight discomfort from rolling over on a bruised part, perhaps, but his childish innocence soon took over and he was back to smiling gently again.

Gobber smiled slightly down at him. He'd seen the boy grow and change so much these past few years, he'd watched the boy grow taller and lankier. He'd watched him get the little scar on his chin, he'd comforted this boy while he cried. He'd advised him on how to deal with a fight between him and Stoick.

He'd taught the boy with gentle hands how to do the things he did daily now, like shaping swords and twisting metal, making axes and hammers, carving wood and pressing leather.

He'd taught the boy everything he himself knew about blacksmithing and now Hiccup was growing into a fine, if a bit weak, young man, an impressive blacksmith and a brilliant artist.

But now he was curled up on his bed, sleeping, and he looked so childlike and innocent that Gobber half-wished he could go back in time, when Hiccup was six years old, joining the forge. He stared around himself at all the sights, green eyes wide with wonder and awe, happily anticipating the future weeks. He remembered the boy's small, childish voice, asking him how to do something, or telling Gobber a story.

He remembered, as though it were just yesterday, when Hiccup was nine. When he quit speaking for months. The boy who loved chatter quit speaking because he missed his mom.

He remembered when Hiccup was eleven, when he began talking to Gobber about Astrid. "Yeah, and she's a really nice girl…" Hiccup would sometimes say.

Or the spring Hiccup turned ten, when he made Astrid's axe for her.

Gobber remembered the day Stoick had yelled at Hiccup, tore him down, made him feel inadequate again.

The moment the terrible words left Stoick's lips, he'd wanted to take them back, but Hiccup had run off, hiding out in the forge just so he wouldn't have to face his father.

It had been Gobber who'd found him, knees drawn up to his chest, eyes shining with tears Vikings ought not to shed.

It had been Gobber who'd gently taken his hand and explained that Stoick was incredibly sorry, that he'd been wishing to take it back, speak to Hiccup for hours now.

It had been Gobber who'd convinced him to come out of the forge and face his father again.

It had been Gobber who'd sort of looked after Hiccup whenever Stoick left to search for the nest.

It had always been Gobber who actually cared when he asked Hiccup if he was okay. No one else in the village understood him, and sometimes, even Gobber didn't. But he knew the boy better than anyone else, better, even, than the boy's own father and he loved him.

He loved the boy for his quirks, his hidden brilliance, his sarcasm and his ability to laugh at himself.

He loved the boy for his innocence, his grace, his silence when he needed peace and quiet, his constant flow of chatter when the blacksmith needed distraction.

Suddenly, Hiccup shifted and sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Ugh." He coughed again.

Gobber smiled at him, ruffling his hair gently. "So, Hiccup! How you feeling?"

"Like a flock of dragons just ran over me," replied Hiccup, coughing again.

"I'm sorry," responded Gobber, giving the boy a minute to be weak. It wasn't his fault, after all.

"It's okay," Hiccup said. "I feel better. Good enough to go to work, even—

"Hiccup." Interrupted Gobber, with a voice like steel. "Stop. I'm not leaving you alone. Okay? The weapons that are needed are few and they can wait until tomorrow. Stoick even said I had about three more days on them."

"You could get sick," protested Hiccup.

Gobber snorted. "Vikings don't get sick."

Long silence.

"Oh," Gobber said, realizing what he'd said. His smile faded. "Oh, yeah…"

"Yeah," Hiccup said, more like snapped, really. "Thanks a bunch."

"Sorry," Gobber muttered with a guilty grin.

Hiccup rolled his eyes, but a violent coughing fit overtook him, his small shoulders racked with them.

"Ugh," he groaned.

Gobber pushed his hair back off his sweaty forehead. "You feel a little feverish."

"Odin, Gobber, I'm fine!"

"No, seriously – your forehead feels warm…"

"No, it doesn't."

"Well, how would you know? You're not even feeling it!"

"Well, move your fat fingers out of the way, wouldn't you, so I could feel it, then?"

Gobber pulled his hands away and Hiccup put his long fingers on his forehead. "Don't feel anything," he said dismissively.

"Well, that's because you're under the very stupid impression that you're not sick—

"I didn't say I didn't think I was sick, I just don't think it's anything _serious_—

"If Stoick was here, he'd do this way better than I would—

"Yeah, if my dad was here, he wouldn't even know I'm sick," muttered Hiccup bitterly.

There was a silence. Gobber stopped short.

Hiccup was glaring down at the bed, hands tangling in the blankets.

"Hey," Gobber said gently, "we don't know if that's true, Hiccup—

"Yeah, I do," he whispered. "Gobber, it doesn't matter what you say, if he 'cares'. My dad _doesn't_ care."

He blew out a long breath, crossing his arms and leaning back against the pillow.

There was another long silence in which all Gobber did was stare at Hiccup and all Hiccup did was avoid Gobber's eyes.

Finally, Gobber picked up Hiccup's empty mug. "Would you like some more water?" he asked stiffly.

Hiccup sighed. "You don't have to do that…"

"Hiccup, you're sick. I'm gonna take care of you, son."

Hiccup, seeing he had lost the fight, simply sighed and said, "Yeah, whatever. This is still completely unnecessary…"

Gobber chuckled and gently ruffled the boy's hair. "Alright, Hiccup. I'll be right back."

A few minutes later, Gobber reappeared, a mug of water for Hiccup and a mug of something much stronger for himself. Caring for this boy was going to cause a lot of stress.

But he was going to do it, he thought, watching Hiccup drink from his water cup. Because the boy needed somebody to care for him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: There you have it. Gobber. Being Gobber. And Hiccup. Being Hiccup.**

**Also, I have no idea why Gobber decided to talk like a pirate for this chapter :P a very drunk pirate **

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A few hours later, Hiccup was reading a book and Gobber was downstairs. He had brought his tools and weapons over and was simply fixing them there, so Hiccup wouldn't be alone and he'd still get his work done.

Gobber heard another cough from upstairs but besides that, all was quiet. He pried furiously at the bent blade of a sword. Come on, you stupid thing! He thought, grabbing up his hammer and screwing it on the prosthetic's base. He hammered away happily at the sword, getting it to resume its former shape, until he heard the hacking cough again. With a sigh, he put his hammer down and walked up the stairs, banging on Hiccup's door. "You alright, son?"

"Yeah," called Hiccup's voice, weak, tired, and with no hint of sarcasm. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

Despite this, however, Gobber burst in and sat down on the edge of Hiccup's bed. "What's troublin' ye, lad? I'll have ya know I ain't _blind_!"

"Nothing," Hiccup said.

He grabbed up his sketchbook and closed it with a snap and a frustrated sigh. "Life sucks."

"What makes you say that?" asked Gobber, with his typical Gobber-ish-ness.

Hiccup glared at him. "What doesn't make me say that?" He coughed loudly again.

Gobber clucked a little disapprovingly. "I think you're talkin' too much, son. It might be doin' numbers on your throat. Didn't ya say your throat was sore?"

"Yes," Hiccup admitted, "but I'm not sure talking has much to do with that."

Speaking of talking, it suddenly occurred to Gobber that this was the most Hiccup had said to him for months. He smoothed Hiccup's tousled, russet hair. "Well…" he sighed. "…if you're sure…"

Hiccup nodded and started to pick up his book again.

"Speaking of talking," Gobber said, plucking Hiccup's book from his hand and dangling it teasingly out of his reach, "what's been up with ya, lately, lad? You haven't talked much."

"Do we have to do this now?" asked Hiccup. "Give me my book, please." His voice was pleasant on the surface, but Gobber knew him well enough to hear the annoyance that leaked out.

"Yeah, we do have to do this now," said Gobber, "it's been months. And suddenly, you're just chattin' again, like nothin' happened?"

"Well, nothing did happen," Hiccup pointed out, in his typical Hiccup manner. "I just didn't have anything to say and I didn't see the use in useless chatter."

"Well, you sure liked your useless chatter when you were eight years old."

"Shut up," yawned Hiccup. He was getting tired again and it was only early afternoon.

"You tired?" asked Gobber, jumping up.

"_No_…" Hiccup emphasized.

There was a silence, which Gobber broke by laughing. "You're lyin' through your teeth, kiddo," he chuckled.

They started up a question game, and eventually it came around to more personal things.

"Best memory?"

"My first Stump Day celebration. Worst fear?"

Hiccup hesitated. "Pass."

"Oh, c'mon. What is it?"

"I'm a fearless Viking. I pass."

Gobber chuckled. "Alright. You're a fearless Viking and you pass. Hmm…what about…crush?"

"Whoa!" Hiccup said. His face went so red so fast Gobber could have mistook him for a traffic light, had he known what one was. "No, this is NOT fair, you just asked me something!" he accused.

Gobber grinned and shook his head. "Sorry, laddie. You skipped that question, now you've got to answer this 'un. Come on." He poked Hiccup in the side. "There must be a beauty you've got your eye on somewhere."

Hiccup sighed, defeated, blushing furiously red and not looking at Gobber. "Astrid."

"Oh, ho," chuckled Gobber. "Knew it."

"Ugh." Hiccup groaned. "My turn. Hey, why was Stump Day so fun?"

"You'll find out if you ever lose a limb," promised Gobber. "Next act of business, was that your question for me?"

"Have you ever thought about getting married and starting a family?"

To Hiccup's great surprise, Gobber smiled softly. "Yeah. Always thought about it, never did it. And then Stoick had little you, and you an' him and your mother were all the family I needed."

Hiccup allowed a smile to cross his face at that.

There was silence for a second.

"Hey, do you sing anything besides your 'I've got my axe' song?" Hiccup persisted.

"Oh, no, my turn," Gobber said. "And yes, I do. Now, how strongly would you object turning this into a game of Truth or Dare?"

Hiccup's eyes widened. "Ohhhh no." He protested.

"Ohhhh, yes," grinned Gobber. "I do believe we've just found our entertainment for the day."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Okay, the feels are not my fault. THEY ATTACKED ME, SHRIEKING, 'PUT US IN YOUR STORY.' And then...fluff and humor...and stuff :D you guys might get to see more Hiccup-Gobber truth or dare soon, but I wanted to have an excuse to end the game in case I couldn't think of anything else. Now, I'm going to post this and get a few cookies xD I'm starving!**

**In other news, what did you guys think of the dares? Gobber's "true nature" was not that he was gay. It was that he thought he was a girl or something idk xD that's how it was supposed to be taken, anyway.**

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"Ugh, I refuse. Yeah, that's it. I simply refuse." Hiccup said, being mature as ever. He pulled the covers over his head and refused to come out.

Gobber sighed. "I didn't want to have to do this." He leaned down to pick Hiccup up and halfway through, he changed his mind and began tickling Hiccup instead.

"Gobber! Stop!" Hiccup yanked the blanket off, hair fuzzy from squirming. "That wasn't technically fair," he objected.

"You're out, aren't you?" pointed out Gobber.

"Whatever," grumped Hiccup.

Gobber grinned at him and said, "Come on. Let's play, shall we?"

"Please," Hiccup begged.

Gobber shook his head, smile widening. "You're not getting out of this one."

"I hate dares," Hiccup whimpered pathetically.

"Oh, c'mon, Hiccup," Gobber said, sitting down on the edge of his bed. "I'll even have mercy."

"Having mercy? You?" Hiccup gave a cheeky grin.

"Shut up, kiddo," grumped Gobber.

Hiccup smiled.

Eventually, their banter ended and the truth or dare game started.

"Okay, now, Hiccup, I dare you to…" Gobber thought for a second. "Stand out in your front yard."

"By 'I'll even have mercy' I didn't realize you meant 'be lame'." Joked Hiccup.

"Oh, no, you didn't hear what else this dare requires…"

"What do you mean, 'what else'…?"

* * *

"I hate you."

"Now, now, Hiccup. Let's just…_oof…_try and make the best of it…shall we?"

"No, I mean, I really hate you."

"You're going to hate me even more when this is over."

"More? Impossible."

"Don't you be cute, now, Hiccup…"

Hiccup walked outside, blushing furiously red and hoping to God none of the teens walked by as he held the cardboard sign.

He did the Can-Can kick hurriedly, trying not to notice his uncle Spitelout and Fishlegs' dad stopping to stare.

They noticed the sign and shook themselves, running off.

Hiccup was doing the Can-Can kick in the middle of his yard, where anyone could see, with a little cardboard sign that read, 'Stop if you think I'm cute!'

By the time his little dance number was done, easily fifteen people had passed by, including, unfortunately, Astrid.

Hiccup's face, the exact color of a ripe tomato, appeared in the doorway. "Alright, Gobber. I did it."

"Oh, ho," chuckled Gobber. "Knew you had it in you, kiddo."

"I'm never speaking to you again," Hiccup threatened.

"Don't be like that," Gobber said.

Hiccup moved away from his comforting touch. "Can I go bury myself in a hole and die now?"

"No," Gobber said cheerfully. "You must now live with the utter mortification."

"_Astrid saw me_!" Hiccup said.

"Must suck," Gobber replied idly, clearly not caring in the least. "It's my turn, I think?"

Suddenly, an evil grin lit up Hiccup's face. "That's _right,_ it _is_…truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Bring it on, fishbone."

* * *

Hiccup definitely brought it on. Gobber was never underestimating the kid again.

He might be small, but he was _evil!_

Gobber fussed with the strap under his shirt. "How do women wear these things?" he fussed.

Hiccup shrugged. "You might get used to it. You'll have plenty of time…" he was carelessly sitting on his chair in the backroom of the forge, wanting to see how his little scheme played out.

"I'm actually starting to think you're enjoying this," grumped Gobber. "And you shouldn't be out of bed."

Hiccup grinned cheekily. "I feel fine."

"Yeah, sure," sniffed Gobber unhappily. He was slightly miffed that Hiccup was doing this to him, but he and Hiccup had always been that way: teasing each other, embarrassing each other, telling each other their deepest secrets, just generally being a family.

He sighed and adjusted the horrid accessory on his helmet horn, just as Spitelout walked by.

Gobber sent Hiccup an 'I hate you for this' look and walked out, giggling like a schoolgirl. He wore violently pink shoes with curved toes like an elf would wear, matched with a bow on one horn of his helmet and some little pink, sparkly bows braided into his mustache. Underneath his ordinary, mustard-yellow shirt, he wore a bra he had stuffed with bits of sheep's wool.

He went up to Spitelout, still talking in that high, girly voice and adding a giggle every now and then between. Because, if you became known as a sissy in the Hooligan Tribe, you might as well go the whole hog and wear a pale pink jerkin, take up playing the harp and change your name to Ermintrude, as Cressida Cowell put so eloquently once.

Spitelout looked freaked and Hiccup heard him ask if Gobber was feeling well.

"Ohhh, yes," giggled Gobber, though Hiccup could see him turning an unattractive shade of red beneath the mustache. "I feel fiiiine. I must say…." Here he glanced at Hiccup, gave him an 'I will get you back for this' look and added, "…it's so great to be true to my true nature!"

Spitelout walked off looking very freaked and when Gobber came back in, Hiccup was howling with laughter. Unfortunately, his laughs turned into coughs halfway through.

"Okay. Bed rest now, Hiccup."

"I feel fine!" Hiccup insisted, stifling a yawn.

"Hiccup, you look exhausted. Go on, go to bed now."

"We can't keep playing? Just a little more?"

Gobber chuckled at Hiccup's childlike nature, his innocent green eyes pleading with Gobber. Hiccup knew those Bambi eyes got the blacksmith every time, so Gobber was careful to avoid looking at Hiccup. "No. Straight to bed."

"Awww…." The boy whined.

"Come on. We'll play in the morning."

"It's only dusk!" Hiccup pleaded.

"C'mon, go on."

"Just a few more turns?"

"Alright, but it's your turn."

"Yowza. Never mind!"

Gobber laughed to himself as Hiccup stood and bolted out of the forge.

"You can run," Gobber called after him, "but ya can't hide!"

They looked quite a crazy pair, Gobber with ribbons flying from his helmet and mustache and Hiccup running, outdistancing the man who was at a disadvantage with his prosthetic.

Hiccup was greatly slowed, though, by the coughing. He kept having to stop, cough, and continue.

Finally, Gobber caught up to the boy on his porch. "Come on," he said. "Race ya upstairs."

"Okay!"

They raced up the stairs, Hiccup beating Gobber (again) and then he said, when Gobber had entered, "Do I really have to lie down?"

"I guess not," sighed Gobber. "You couldn't give a poor man with a hurting half leg a bit of rest, could you?"

Hiccup's shoulders slumped and he bit his lip, looking guilty. "I-I'm sorry…"

"I'm just teasin' ya, kiddo," Gobber laughed. "I feel fine."

Hiccup glared, crossing his arms. "Okay, not funny."

"It was hilarious. In fact, it nearly outdoes your cardboard sign."

"But it doesn't even come close to your true nature."

"Shut up," grouched Gobber, giving him a gentle shove onto his wooden slab of a bed.

Hiccup settled down into the pillow and Gobber tucked the blanket up next to him.

Gobber stroked Hiccup's red hair with his real hand and Hiccup sighed happily at the man's comforting touch, the touch woven with all the love and care of a father.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: xD I had such fun with this chapter. I'm sorry to anyone who doesn't enjoy this chapter because of the pairing, but I genuinely liked them and I shipped them...like, before their romantic flight, I just liked Astrid because she was tough and then after, I liked her better because she was nicer to Hiccup...**

**Anyway, I found something Hiccup says online xD you'll know what I found online when you read it. **

* * *

Gobber awoke to find Hiccup still asleep, dark circles under his eyes. He was shivering slightly in his sleep.

Gobber tucked the blanket more securely around him, deciding to let the boy sleep while he cooked breakfast.

Unfortunately, his rough hands tucking the blanket around Hiccup woke the boy, who sat up and rubbed his eyes, yawning. He leaned back on his elbows and shivered slightly. "Ooh! Are we gonna play Truth or Dare again? Huh, are we?"

Gobber chuckled slightly. "You eager for that, are ya? Yeah, if ya want to, I guess we can…there are conditions this time, though, and do ya need another blanket or something? You're shakin' like a leaf in a winter's wind, Hiccup…"

"I'm fine," Hiccup shivered, reaching over and tugging on his vest. "What are the conditions?" He paused in pulling on his boots to cough a little.

Gobber shrugged it off and said, "I was thinkin' we'd eat breakfast and then get a jump start on the day, huh?"

"Actually, I feel great," Hiccup said happily, smiling. "By later today, I'll probably feel well enough to go back to work."

"And hopefully, Stoick will never have to know what ensued 'ere," chuckled Gobber, grabbing Hiccup up by the front of his shirt.

The boy swayed a little. Now that Gobber looked at him, he saw drops of sweat forming on Hiccup's forehead, his normally pale face pink, and he shivered again.

"What?" he asked, catching Gobber's look.

"You have a fever."

"Do not."

"Aha!" Gobber cried, feeling his forehead. "As I expected! You feel warm, kid."

"Yeah, but that's a good thing," Hiccup urged. "It's been proven that a fever is actually the body's natural reaction to illness, it means it's boiling the germs—

"Nice try, kiddo."

"Ugh," Hiccup moaned. "I'm going out today. You can't stop me."

Gobber picked him up by the collar of his vest. "Apparently, I can. I'm going to cook us breakfast." He went downstairs, still holding Hiccup, who he only let drop when he'd reached the kitchen. "Now…" he continued in a hard voice, "I'm going to cook breakfast, you are going to eat it and we are going to play a much milder Truth or Dare…with conditions."

"Alright," Hiccup said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "What sort of conditions and don't make this a sissy game."

Gobber chuckled. "Oh, don't worry. I won't. The conditions are: 1. no cross-dressing anymore. That was just awkward for all involved."

Hiccup worked to stifle a giggle and keep a straight face. "Alright. I can live with that…sissy."

"Hey!" Gobber said, offended. "I'm not bein' a sissy, I'm restrictin' you from making everyone in this village question what I think my gender is."

"But that's fun," Hiccup replied.

Gobber rolled his eyes, setting a plate of eggs and bread in front of Hiccup. "Eat. All of it."

He set his own plate down and they both began eating quietly.

When they were done, Hiccup said, "Okay, what are the other conditions?"

"That's it, really," Gobber admitted, shoving the last bite of bread in his mouth. "Why? You getting ideas?"

"A fair few," admitted Hiccup, grinning.

"But it's your turn," Gobber reminded him.

Hiccup went pale with dread. "Okay…what do you want me to do?"

"Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," Hiccup whispered in a barely audible voice. It was an unspoken rule that picking truth meant you were sissy.

Gobber rubbed at his chin, pretending to think. His brain whirled furiously. He really should get Hiccup back for that whole 'true nature' thing.

"Ok," grinned Gobber. "You have to go out to the forge…"

* * *

And, of course, as Hiccup sat there waiting nervously, he heard graceful footsteps and then a voice he recognized…

"Hey! Is anyone here?"

_Oh, gods…_

He was going to kill Gobber, and then he was going to offer up the remains to a dragon and then he was going to burn all of the blacksmith's prosthetics….

"Um…H-hi, Astrid," he stuttered, popping out of the backroom, wracking his brain for something – anything – to say. "Um…"

"Can I get this sharpened?" Astrid demanded aggressively. Hiccup nodded quickly, relieved that she was doing the speaking for him.

"Uh…I'll just…uh…" he led her over to the grindstone and with a horrible jolt, remembered Gobber's dare. "Uh…so…uh…nice-nice day, huh?"

"I guess," Astrid admitted, flicking her bangs out of her eyes.

Hiccup could feel himself going red. This was going worse than he'd thought. "Am…am I in a museum?" he choked out. Sue him. It was the only line he'd ever heard. "Because you are truly a work of art."

Astrid's head whipped around so fast Hiccup flinched. "What?"

"Um…er…nothing," he muttered, flushing deeply. _Thanks a bunch, Gobber, _he thought. _Hit on the next girl in the forge. What a dare, you jerk._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Uncle Gobber: Chapter 6**

**OMG xD I'm so glad I got this chapter written, it's been hanging over me for like, ever! Sorry the dares are so lame :P I really didn't have any ideas :P **

**I'm also sorry about my long absence :( but would you like some Gobber/Hiccup feels to make up for it? **

* * *

Gobber didn't seem too perturbed that he'd screwed up his apprentice's chances with the girl of his dreams; if anything, he seemed to find it nothing short of hilarious and couldn't stop laughing for minutes after the story came out.

"Bet she won't be asking you to sharpen her axe again, 'ey, laddie?" teased Gobber. Hiccup's face was only a few shades lighter than his hair. "Shut up."

Gobber controlled himself with some effort and said, "Alright. What's your dare for me?"

Hiccup scowled, crossing his arms and throwing himself down on the wooden floor. "I'm thinking."

"Well, think fast, lad. Otherwise, you give up your chance and I get to dare you again."

"That's not fair!"

"It's plenty fair."

"That's not a rule!"

"It is a rule!"

"Yeah, but you just made it up!"

"That's right, I did."

"Ugh," Hiccup groaned, sinking down lower, nearly lying on his back in his living room. Then he sat up suddenly, a grin starting to grow on his face. "I think I have a dare for you," he said in an irritating singsong voice.

"Don't brag, just tell me it, will ya?" Gobber demanded.

Hiccup scowled, but complied.

There was a few seconds of silence.

"Um…" Gobber coughed, turning a little pink, "are we allowed to reject dares?"

"Nope," Hiccup grinned. "And I'm going to watch you do this."

"Fine," Gobber shrugged. "I've got a dare for you after this, then." He shrugged, seeming so utterly relaxed about it all that for a second Hiccup was worried.

Then Gobber picked himself up from the floor and went outside and Hiccup followed, forgetting about Gobber's idea completely.

* * *

"I'm a little teapot short and stout…" Gobber sang, putting one hand on his hip. "Here is my handle and here is my spout!"

He could vaguely hear Hiccup laughing from inside the forge.

That had been his rule, that Hiccup had to stay inside the forge. It was a cold, crisp morning and he didn't want to risk the poor boy getting too cold.

"When I get all steamed up, hear me shout," Gobber continued doggedly, vowing to get back at his apprentice for this. He just wasn't quite sure how yet. "Tip me over and pour me out!"

A few watching Vikings walked away with the air of someone who has just seen something mildly disturbing.

But Gobber wasn't done. He continued, determined to show the boy laughing hysterically in the forge that he hadn't won, that Gobber was going to complete the dare and embarrass himself right. "I'm a little teacup, nice and round," he sang, eyeing the Vikings watching him and hoping they'd walk away soon.

"Fill me up and drink me down. Put a little honey in your tea, then just take a sip from me!"

As the watching Vikings cleared away, Gobber began the next verse. "I'm a little cookie—

"Okay. You can stop now, Gobber."

Gobber gritted his teeth at the sight of his red-faced apprentice, tears of laughter in his eyes. Hiccup chuckled again, but had to stop to cough.

Gobber's irritation was almost instantly replaced with worry. "You okay, kiddo?"

"Yes!" Hiccup insisted, annoyed. "I'm fine! What's your dare for me?"

A thunderclap seemed to shake the whole forge and Hiccup glanced uneasily up at the sky.

"Oh, there's gonna be a storm tonight," Gobber moaned. "Gothi did say the conditions were right for one. It's gonna be a bad one, Hiccup."

Hiccup shivered a little, pulling his vest closer around him. "I hate storms." It was a mumble more than anything, but Gobber still heard it.

He rubbed a soothing hand across the boy's back. "I know."

"Alright. Got a dare for me?" Hiccup asked, bringing himself sharply back to the present and turning to Gobber.

* * *

The rain started as a light drizzle.

Neither of them thought anything of it, continuing on even as the light patter turned into a positive downpour.

"Okay," Hiccup sighed, plunking himself down in the forge, dripping wet and shivering violently. "I d-did it." His latest dare had been to yell out 'I believe in fairies' at any passersby. Luckily, there had been few today; work was mostly done for the day and nobody saw any reason to go out in the rain.

Hiccup shivered again and spoke through chattering teeth. "G-Gobber, I—

He was cut off by Gobber's sharp inhale. "I forgot ya were sick!" Gobber cried. "Go on…let's go to your house…you have a change of clothes, right?"

"Yes..." said a thoroughly perplexed Hiccup. "Why?"

"You're gonna get even sicker if you carry on this way, playin' in the rain," Gobber said. "We can't keep going."

"It's only—

"It's about to be nightfall, Hiccup, I don't want you out there sick, alone and in the rain and dark, most likely freezing. Let's get you home, alright?"

Hiccup, unexpectedly obedient, nodded and began stumbling home, out of the forge, having to stop and cough.

By the time he made it inside, his whole body was racked with the shivering and he peeled off his wet clothes and changed into dry ones as Gobber came bursting in, lighting a candle.

"You alright, Hiccup?" he asked. He was still reluctant to leave a sick teenager at home, especially when he'd just made everything worse by letting him play in the rain.

"I'm here," Hiccup called tiredly, coming out of his bedroom pulling a shirt on. His normal outfit was laid out by the fire to dry overnight and the clothes he was wearing weren't much different, besides the fact that the pants were dark brown and the tunic was rust red and he had no belt.

He had no vest, either and he sat by the fire, shivering slightly. "You should get changed," he told Gobber quietly in a voice that sounded oddly rusty, like he'd eaten a few nails before speaking. "You could get sick, too."

"Eh," Gobber waved a hand away, "I'll be fine."

"No, seriously, you could get sick—

"I'm not like you."

Hiccup stopped short, pulling his hands away from the warming blaze. He glared up at Gobber, who parked it beside him and began warming up, too. "What's that supposed to mean?" Hiccup demanded, crossing his arms.

"Nothing," Gobber responded honestly. "Just that you're small, and ya get cold easier than most of us do. Nothing wrong with that, it's just true. I'm not even that cold."

He set the candle down between the two of them and Hiccup watched it slowly melt the wax until Gobber pulled his attention from it. "Alright, Hiccup?"

"Yeah," Hiccup replied, meeting Gobber's eyes and shooting the man a smile. "I'm alright."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Uncle Gobber: Chapter 7**

**xD omg, I'm so glad I got this done xD you guys have no idea how pleased I am for updating again so quickly xD thank you guys for all the reviews! Holy cow! xD what do you guys think Hiccup has?**

* * *

Gobber awoke the next morning beside a burned-out fire and with a weight on his arm. Looking down, he saw Hiccup had fallen asleep by the fire, his head resting on Gobber's shoulder, sleeping peacefully.

Gobber smiled lovingly at Hiccup, who scooted closer to him in his sleep. Gobber neatly extricated himself from the tangle of limbs his apprentice was fast becoming and watched Hiccup frown a little as he subconsciously realized he had nothing to hang onto. He must've really been tired, Gobber reflected, because he simply curled up onto the wooden floor beside the fireplace and continued sleeping.

Gobber stood up and stretched, walking into the small kitchen to begin preparing breakfast. The only sound in the house besides his uneven footsteps was Hiccup's breathing.

The blacksmith smiled a little, enjoying the peace of his apprentice's house this early in the morning.

The quiet draped over the hut like a blanket, so different from the constant hustle and bustle of the forge that Hiccup never seemed to tire of and that Gobber had gotten used to over the years.

Still, this complete silence was a pleasant, if slightly eerie, change.

As Gobber set out two plates on the small wooden table, he wandered back into the living room and gently shook Hiccup awake.

"Mmm?" Hiccup blinked sleepily up at Gobber, looking so much like a little kid again that the blacksmith smiled a little.

"It's time to wake up, Hiccup," he whispered. "Breakfast is made. And after it, we can play Truth or Dare or something, if you like."

Hiccup blinked a few more times. "Not hungry." His voice sounded terrible and scratchy. "I want to sleep."

Hiccup turned away from him, curling up resolutely in front of the fireplace again, his thin, bony back to Gobber.

The blacksmith could see the boy's bony shoulder blades poking through his thin green shirt and he rested a hand on the boy's arm. "C'mon, Hiccup, wake up."

"No," Hiccup mumbled. Gobber winced. Hiccup really did sound terrible. He just hoped the boy felt better than he sounded.

"Are you feeling okay, Hiccup?" he asked.

"No," Hiccup repeated. "Let me sleep."

"Alright, alright," Gobber said reassuringly. "You can sleep in a minute. What's wrong?" He wasn't terribly experienced at being a doctor, but all the Viking men and women were issued warnings about what sort of symptoms to ask about.

"My throat hurts," Hiccup muttered. "I'm tired. I want to sleep."

"Is that all?" Gobber pressed.

"I'm itching," Hiccup responded sleepily. "I'm cold. And my arms are hurting."

"Your…arms?" Gobber repeated, sure he hadn't heard right.

"The muscles in my arms are hurting," Hiccup replied tiredly. "Can I sleep now?"

"Yeah," Gobber said uncertainly. "Do you want a blanket?"

"I'm fine." Hiccup replied, yawning.

Gobber got the blanket anyway, tucking it around Hiccup and wiping wet auburn strands off the boy's forehead. Wait…wet?

He touched the boy's head again. There was sweat in his hair and his forehead was burning.

"Oh, no…" Gobber muttered.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Uncle Gobber: Chapter 8**

**Um...here...is chapter 8...Gobber has some 'my kid - er, APPRENTICE - is sick' angst here xD still want to know what it is? *annoying singsong voice* well, too bad! Okay, in truth, it's not really some big secret xD**

* * *

Gobber wasn't sure what to do, but in the end, decided he couldn't leave Hiccup alone. Who knew what the boy could get up to all alone, feeling as sick as he felt?

Gobber comforted himself with empty words. 'It'll be fine,' he told himself. 'Hiccup's been sick before and he's always pulled through!'

'Oh, yeah,' a sarcastic tone that sounded very much like Hiccup intruded. 'Because the last time he was sick, he was six years old and had caught a twenty-four-hour bug.'

"Shut up," Gobber muttered to his inner Hiccup. It was like having his apprentice talking to him, even though he was sleeping.

Gobber gently stroked the hair off his forehead, not wanting to wake him but at the same time knowing he had to get him colder somehow.

Judging by the feel of his forehead alone, the boy had a fever that was so high it was nearing the unhealthy range. Even in sleep, he was still sweating, but lay still.

After awhile, even this, too, was gone and Hiccup was tossing and turning and muttering things in his sleep, and eventually at one point, he said clearly, "No, Gobber, I'm fine! I want to play Truth or Dare!"

He had to find a way to cool Hiccup off.

He knew the boy was a bit of a light sleeper, so he most likely wouldn't be able to sleep through this. The blacksmith gently tugged the red blanket off him and Hiccup blinked sleepily, looking around. "M'cold," he muttered.

"I know," Gobber whispered, pushing more sweaty strands of copper hair off his apprentice's burning forehead. "You're gonna have to be cold, Hiccup."

"M' already cold," Hiccup replied, blinking rapidly. He curled back up and yawned, fingers scrabbling around his knees, searching for a blanket that wasn't there. He must've been tired, because he just gave up and curled into a ball, trying to conserve body heat.

Gobber felt anxiety and fear fight for places in his heart as he realized the boy was shivering. He was cold, way too cold. The blonde Viking had seen other forms of this sickness, but he wasn't sure the flu was ever quite as severe with other people. Hiccup's immune system was weaker, however and he was still a growing child, so that could add to the problem of his bad reaction to the simple illness that most Vikings on Berk treated like a cold.

The blacksmith had to get the boy's fever down. "I'll be right back," he whispered. "Alright?"

Hiccup was silent for a long second and just as Gobber was about to edge out the door, thinking he was asleep, the auburn-haired Viking spoke. "I don't want you to leave me, okay?"

"I'll be right back," Gobber promised again. If he started having hallucinations, the man reflected, he wasn't sure what he was going to do.

When the boy nodded and allowed himself to relax again, Gobber hurriedly scooped up a small pile of snow from Stoick's front yard and came back inside, not even feeling the icy numbness spreading into his one real hand. He was a Viking, after all – everything was cold.

He lay a small part of the snow on Hiccup's forehead.

Hiccup made a loud noise of protest. "Gobber…" he mumbled. "That's cold."

"I know," Gobber said soothingly.

"Please take it off," Hiccup muttered, looking ready to drift off to sleep again.

Okay. Gobber breathed out a small sigh. So. Hiccup was way sicker than he'd originally thought. He felt a bit stupid for not catching it earlier.

Hiccup suddenly sat up. "Um….Gobber?"

Gobber's eyes traveled downward to see Hiccup had one arm wrapped around his stomach. Knowing what was about to happen, Gobber ran for a bucket.

At last being able to locate one, he slid it neatly into the living room not a second too soon. Hiccup vomited straight into the metal tin and when he pulled back, he looked a little paler than before.

"Ugh," Gobber muttered, setting the bucket aside. "Sorry, lad."

Hiccup swallowed and winced. "It's okay. I'll…" he yawned. "I'll be okay."

"I'm gonna get you some water, alright?" Gobber said.

"I'm not thirsty," Hiccup protested sleepily.

"You will be," Gobber pointed out. "You can sleep for a little while – I'll be here. When you wake up, though, you've got to drink some water. It's not good to have nothing in your stomach, especially when you're sick. A lot of people find that having a lot of fluids in their system makes them feel better."

Hiccup sighed and lay back down, wiping the remnants of snow out of his hair. The snow on his forehead had fallen off when he'd sat up and vomited, meaning there were only a few white flecks left on him now. "Can I have my blanket back?" he pleaded.

"No," Gobber said firmly, carefully averting his eyes from the shivering teen. If he began thinking of how cold Hiccup looked, he would eventually crack and give him back the dang blanket and he couldn't do that, because Hiccup really did need to cool down.

"Pl-please?" Hiccup sputtered a little, interrupting himself to cough.

"No," Gobber replied. "You have to stay cool, Hiccup, you've got a temperature that could rival the one in Death Valley. Okay? You need to let yourself cool off first. Get some rest."

Hiccup grumbled under his breath, but stopped this as his throat was hurting him. Instead, he fell back asleep on the wooden floor in front of the fireplace and Gobber sighed, wondering if he should move him or not.

He weighed his options; the boy was easier to get to down here, should Gobber be downstairs and Hiccup call for him.

Then again, the boy was in danger of being stepped on should anyone come in here and not check the floor properly or should Gobber be distracted thinking of other things.

Though how he could think of other things, he wasn't completely sure. His little boy – er, apprentice – was very, very sick. He couldn't get his mind off the way Hiccup looked, the way he'd begged Gobber not to leave him, the way he'd vomited straight into the bucket…

'Man up,' Gobber told himself sternly. 'You're a Viking. And you could stand to remember that about Hiccup, too.'


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Uncle Gobber: Chapter 9 **

**Well, here she is! Chapter 9! One away from double digits! This is mildly awesome :) I literally didn't see this story going very far :) Um, apologies. This chapter is a little short, but I promise Chapter 10 or 11 or something will be longer. Ok? **

* * *

Hiccup spent much of the day sleeping and when he wasn't sleeping or drinking water, he was vomiting and shivering.

Gobber eventually did crack and let him have the blanket again. The rust-red quilt hung limply around Hiccup's thin shoulders, fluttering every time the boy shook with cold.

It was when he was leaning over the bucket for the third time that day that Gobber's thoughts started taking darker turns. He'd been worried all day, but he didn't really think Hiccup would get this sick. The kid couldn't even hold down the half cup of water he'd drank earlier in the day, and even though he had nothing in his system, he was still vomiting.

Hiccup raised his head and wiped some stray strands of saliva and vomit off his chin, face very pale.

Sweat was running down his forehead and neck, and he pulled the blanket closer around him, beginning to shiver again.

"I'm sorry, lad," Gobber murmured, rubbing soothing circles on the boy's back as he coughed and gagged a little.

On instinct, Gobber offered him the bucket. Hiccup shook his head miserably. "I don't need that," he responded quietly. "And what are you sorry for? It's not like you got me sick."

It was the first time the boy had been properly awake and speaking in full sentences all day, so Gobber seized the moment, blurting out the first thing that came to him. "Well, I did let ya play out in the rain."

"You could even get sick if you keep hanging around me," Hiccup pointed out, but then he rolled his eyes. "This did not come from playing in the rain, believe me. I probably would've gotten this bad without that."

He shivered a little, causing the blanket's edges to flutter around his shoulders like the wings of a bedraggled and flightless bird.

"You should actually probably go," he said, with little to no conviction in his voice. "I could get you sick."

"You think I'm going to go?" Gobber asked with heavy sarcasm.

"Well, of course, I don't think you're going to go, you're the most stubborn person I've ever met—

"Ah, not true! You're more stubborn than I am!"

"—although Dad could _definitely_ give you a run for your money—

He broke off at the mention of his dad and darted a nervous glance at Gobber, then lowered his eyes back to the hardwood floor and said in a offhand voice, "Dad will be getting home soon, huh?"

"Yeah," Gobber replied quietly. "Yeah, he is, lad." He squeezed Hiccup's hand with his real one, wanting to hold the boy close and never, ever let go.

When Stoick came back, there'd be a constant, seven-foot-four reminder that Gobber was not really Hiccup's father…but, he thought, gazing down at the red-haired Viking, he might as well have been.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Uncle Gobber: Chapter 10**

**C'mon! xD You didn't REALLY think it was going to be the flu, didya? xD no, no, no. I write way too angsty of stuff for that. xD You'll find out what it is next chapter. **

* * *

Hiccup fell back asleep soon after that, head resting on Gobber's real arm, breathing shallowly in and out.

Gobber gently smoothed out his hair, disliking the circles under the boy's eyes and the way his breathing wasn't normal for a sleeping person. It was rapid and shallow and the blacksmith didn't like it one bit.

He wasn't sure anymore if he could get through this on his own. He was just starting to think about calling the village healer when Hiccup shifted in his arms.

He sighed a little, rubbing circles on the boy's back with his real hand. The boy in his arms looked so unhealthy, which made sense, seeing as he was sick, but Gobber was starting to worry that this illness might be bigger than the flu.

He wasn't sure what other symptoms would reveal themselves and nothing else could match the symptoms but the flu, at least with what he'd seen.

But then, there were those diseases intruding from the mainland. There was one he'd heard of recently that had all the signs and symptoms of what Hiccup was showing now. It was said this illness had claimed countless lives and the Vikings of the other islands were still trying to find experienced healers to end the epidemic.

He felt a wave of panic threatening to rise, to destroy the temporary, early morning peace.

More than anything, he felt the desire to move. Sitting still and thinking about all of the possibilities of Hiccup's sickness was bad enough, but actually looking at the boy's pale face and the dark circles under his eyes made everything ten times worse.

Gobber stood, carefully disentangling himself from Hiccup, who simply fell back on the floor and kept sleeping (a rather impressive, although worrying, feat, Gobber had to admit).

He began pacing the Haddocks' living room, caught between two options, each with advantages and disadvantages.

He could go to Gothi, the village healer, and ask her if there was anything wrong with Hiccup besides a nasty case of the flu.

Problem with that was, going to the village healer meant leaving Hiccup alone for who knows how long and that was something he simply could not do.

He could stay here and be able to watch Hiccup every hour of the day, making sure that his condition didn't worsen, but there were downsides to this, as well.

If he stayed here, he'd miss his chance to go to the village healer, because when Hiccup awoke he was certain to try and discourage Gobber from thinking too hard about this.

But if he didn't go now, he might never figure out what was wrong with Hiccup and who knew how serious it could be?

He was torn between wishing Stoick were here and being glad he wasn't.

Everybody on Berk knew Stoick the Vast didn't exactly have a great thing going with his son – some of their fights had been the talk of the village.

On the other hand, Stoick would most definitely know what to do in this situation and he had raised his son.

'But you do know Hiccup better than Stoick does,' argued a voice in Gobber's head. 'He may have been Stoick's blood son, but the pair certainly doesn't act it.'

Gobber sighed to himself, stopping in the middle of the room, looking down at the ill teen by the fireplace, a blanket thrown over him, curled into a ball, forehead practically touching his knees.

_Stoick would know what to do. _

He shook those thoughts off. He had to keep his head. He would go and get the village healer and he would ask her to come take a look at Hiccup.

He would be quick about it, so hopefully Hiccup wouldn't wake up while he was gone and by the time he came back, Hiccup might hate him for dragging the healer into this, but at least Gobber would officially know what was wrong with his apprentice, so he could stop worrying.

He left the house, the door swinging slightly open, running as fast as his real leg and prosthetic could take him to Gothi.

* * *

The word was strange to Gobber and when Gothi saw his confusion, she picked up her little staff and wrote something else in the dirt.

"_It's one of the diseases you've been hearing about. Off the mainland."_

Gobber glanced over at Hiccup, vomiting in the bucket again. "Will he get better?"

"_There is no cure."_

"What…what do you mean?" Gobber asked worriedly. "Do you mean he won't ever get better? Will he…will he stay like this or…?" He couldn't even voice the thought. No matter how much he complained, life without his little boy was unimaginable. Hiccup added color everywhere he went, he added imagination, creativity and life. He was like a son to Gobber, though the blacksmith would never admit it. He simply could not die. He just couldn't.

"_Some die. Some don't. Almost half pull through."_

"Hiccup _has_ to pull through," Gobber said, sending the boy a worried glance.


	11. Chapter 11

**Uncle Gobber: Chapter 11 **

**Um...yeah...here's the next part. This part wasn't meant to move the story forward any. This is simply there for emotion. In other words, I was trying to break the reader's feels and pull on their heartstrings. I failed, didn't I? xP **

* * *

_Hiccup looked so pale, so worn-out and, if the dark circles under his eyes were any indication, he hadn't slept properly for weeks._

_He coughed into his hand and when he pulled it away, Gobber saw bright, shining red blood staining the boy's small hands. His own meal threatened to make a reappearance, as Hiccup's so often had that evening. He was going to die, he was dead, he was gone and there was nothing Gobber could do about it…_

Gobber sat up straight, making a noise of protest, even in his dream, before looking around and realizing he was still in the Haddocks' living room and Hiccup was asleep.

He swallowed, glancing around the darkened room. Hiccup was going to be okay.

He knew he'd soon have to wake the boy and tell him the strange word Gothi had shared with him, but for now, all was peaceful and Hiccup didn't know the meaning of the word 'pneumonia'.

He swallowed again. Hiccup was so sick…and there was no cure invented yet for pneumonia…

He suddenly became aware of the sound of soft sobbing and quick, scared whimpers. Looking around for the source of the noise, he saw Hiccup's thin shoulders were shaking. Worried, he crawled over on his hands and knees to his small apprentice and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hiccup?" he whispered softly, hoping the boy would answer.

The boy began taking deep, exaggerated breaths, as if hoping to prove to the closely listening Gobber that he was indeed asleep, but Gobber wasn't fooled: there was the slightest sound of a muffled sob catching in his apprentice's throat.

"Hiccup," he whispered, turning the boy over onto his back so he could get a better look at his face, but before he saw his tear-stained cheeks, the boy had collapsed in Gobber's arms, shoulders still shaking, his sobbing pervading the peace of night.

"Hey," Gobber said softly, arms quickly encircling the boy, "Hiccup, what's wr—

"I don't want to die," Hiccup whispered, breaking Gobber's heart. "I know it's s-stupid to be so s-scared, but you wouldn't tell me what it was…and I tr-tried to sleep, but Gobber, I had n-nightmares…it's the same dr-dream every time and I c-can't get it out of my h-head," he whimpered.

Gobber didn't ask. He didn't press for details. All he did was hug the boy, rubbing his hair which was damp with sweat, and murmur, "You're gonna be alright. You're alright."

Hiccup shook like a leaf in Gobber's arms, never speaking, never asking Gobber why the man was still awake and for that, Gobber was very grateful. He didn't want to tell Hiccup the awful things that had been circling his mind like vultures as he himself attempted to sleep. He didn't want Hiccup knowing he was having nightmares about him, especially not when the boy was this scared…

"You're alright," Gobber repeated and Hiccup exhaled, long and slow and very deep. He swiped furiously at his eyes, wishing he wasn't so terrible a Viking that he had to cry because of some stupid illness, and Gobber was looking down at him with all the love and affection he had never known that it made his eyes sting with fresh tears.

It made him even angrier with himself that he couldn't find it in him to admit, even to himself, that he wished Gobber was his father, this man who was hugging him now and had always looked after him…

Gobber steadied himself. His chin wouldn't quiver. His eyes would not get wet. And he would not look afraid. He would look reassuring. He would reassure Hiccup. "Your disease," Gobber began slowly, "is something called pneumonia. There's no cure, but a lot of people pull through. You're not gonna die, Hiccup."

"I'm afraid, Gobber," Hiccup whispered. "I don't want to die."

"And you're not going to," Gobber reassured him. "You're the strongest person I know."

Hiccup dropped his eyes to the wooden floor. _Weakling. Idiot. Runt. _"You can't mean that."

"I do," Gobber said loyally. "So what if you don't have the biggest muscles, Hiccup? You may not be strong here…" and he indicated Hiccup's thin arms and shoulders, chest and stomach. "…but you're strong here," he finished, laying his real hand over Hiccup's heart.

Hiccup gave him a shaky, sad smile. "Thanks, Gobber."

He leaned against Gobber again and though his shoulders didn't shake, nor did he sob, Gobber felt warm liquid seeping into his shirt in little droplets and knew that the boy was crying still. The two sat that way all night, the blacksmith and his apprentice, one holding the other, so much like father and son.


	12. Chapter 12

**Uncle Gobber: Chapter 12**

**Wow! We're already twelve chapters in? xD This chapter was loads of fun to write, honestly...like, last chapter was, too, but last chapter was all...feely. This is just kinda fluffy so it's not solely focused on Hiccup's illness. **

* * *

Around the time the sun rose, Gobber felt Hiccup shift and grow limp in his arms. His breathing was still reasonably steady, however, and as Gobber pulled away and examined him he came to the conclusion the boy had fallen asleep.

It had been a hard night for both of them and he wasn't surprised to see the tiredness etched into every line of the boy's face.

About an hour after the sunrise, there was a knock on the door and Gobber called, "Come in," unwilling to leave Hiccup.

His call had woken Hiccup, who opened his eyes and looked around blearily as Astrid Hofferson shoved open the door and walked in.

Hiccup quickly pulled away from Gobber and attempted to flatten down his hair, which was sticking up straight in the back. And frankly, his bangs could've used some work, too.

"Hey," Astrid greeted them as though this sort of thing was normal. "I couldn't find anyone in the forge, and I needed some help with my axe."

"What's wrong with it?" Gobber asked.

"Here, look…" Astrid handed her axe off to Gobber and as the man pored over the weapon, she turned to Hiccup.

Apparently, she'd already forgotten the pick-up line he'd used last time they'd seen each other, but he certainly hadn't. He blushed bright red and nervously twisted his fingers, waiting for her to speak.

Finally, she did, in a rather sharp, brisk voice. "What's wrong with you?"

"Eh," Hiccup shrugged, not wanting to admit that he was sick, not to Astrid, at least, who was the embodiment of all things Viking while he was…not. "You know."

Gobber glanced up from inspecting her axe. "Yeah. I can fix this, lass. My…uh…manly apprentice here o'er worked 'imself. He'll be fine."

He'd known from the instant Astrid asked what was wrong that Hiccup would try to lie and mistakenly thought it would be a great idea if he took over.

Hiccup's face was about the same shade as his hair now, and he was determinedly not looking at Astrid, still stuck on "manly apprentice".

Astrid shifted a little. "Right," she said, in a voice that suggested she thought Gobber ought to have kept his mouth closed. And privately, Hiccup did, too. "Well, will you take it to the forge and fix it?"

"Uh…" Gobber cut Hiccup a look. "Lass, y'see, my apprentice is really sick, and I don't know if it's the best idea to leave him alone right now. I don't know…" he trailed off uncertainly.

"I'd be fine," interjected Hiccup.

Gobber rolled his eyes. "No, you wouldn't, Hiccup. You could be six feet under and you'd be saying, 'I'll be fine!'"

Hiccup scowled.

Astrid crossed her arms and looked skeptically between the two of them. "If you like, I can stay with him, if you'll fix my axe."

"Would ya?" Gobber brightened a bit. "He wouldn't be trouble, he's a quiet kid. I just need somebody to watch over him, he really is too sick to look after himself…"

Astrid nodded. "Sure."

Then she cast an almost accusing glance over at Hiccup. "Just hurry. I hate sick people. And I need to train, so if you get me sick…"

Hiccup held up his hands in surrender. "I'm gonna try my best not to."

Gobber looked uncertainly between the two of them. "Oh, go on, Gobber," encouraged Hiccup. "I'll be fine. I'm seventy-two percent sure I'll still be alive when you come back."

This did not seem to help matters.

Finally, Gobber had walked out the door and Astrid, who had nothing to do with herself now that her axe was gone, merely walked around the room several times, at last settling down next to the fireplace, where Hiccup sat.

"So…uh…some rain the other day, huh?" he said awkwardly.

She shot him a look as she sat down. "I guess. But, I mean, we're Vikings. It's an occupational hazard."

Hiccup nodded. He nervously pulled his sketchbook out of his vest, hoping that doing something with his hands might distract him from the fact that the cutest girl in the entire village happened to be sitting mere feet away and he had just brought up the weather.

There was a long, painful silence.

"Sorry about earlier," Hiccup blurted at last. "I didn't mean it."

"Didn't mean what?"

"You know…the whole 'you're a work of art' thing. It was…kind of on a dare, really, that I did that…"

"Oh. Really." Astrid didn't seem too interested in his (admittedly rather feeble) apology, but then again, she had put up with Snotlout for years.

She clicked her tongue impatiently. "I hope Gobber gets back soon. I lost a few hours of training yesterday because of that storm. I couldn't see a thing with rain like that."

Hiccup glanced sideways at her. "Huh. Must've been bad if it stopped Astrid Hofferson from training."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to be funny?"

"Wha—no!" he could feel himself blushing. "I wasn't! I just meant…you're really dedicated…that's all. Which is great! Really! I…I like that you're dedicated. It's cool. It's nice." He realized he was rambling and closed his mouth, deciding on the spot that awkward silence just had to be better than this.

Astrid fell silent, too, crossing her arms and sneaking peeks at him from under her bangs. "What are you sick with, anyway?"

Immensely grateful for the subject change and not even caring what the topic was, Hiccup replied, "Just some disease. Called pneumonia or something."

"Hmm," Astrid mused to herself.

Hiccup, seeing this wasn't going to keep her entertained for very long, opened his mouth to change the subject, but before he could, she fixed her gaze on him and said, "Well, I hope you get well soon, really soon."

"Y-yeah?" he stuttered hopefully, feeling both elated and pathetic; elated because of what she'd just said and pathetic because, despite everything, he still felt like doing a victory dance because nothing was awkward for two seconds and she told him 'get well soon'.

"Yeah," she offered him a rare smile and, to Hiccup, it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. "The forge is really suffering without you. I mean, Gobber's been fixing our weapons, still, but…it's not the same. The forge…it doesn't feel…it doesn't feel right without you."

"W-wow, uh, th-thanks…if that was…you know…meant to be…"

"Yeah, it was meant to be a compliment…"

"Then, uh. Wow. Thanks."

"Hey— Hiccup began, but before he could, the door flew open and Gobber stood there, holding Astrid's axe.

"There y'are, lass!" boomed Gobber. "Go on, try it out…"

Astrid took it from him and threw it as hard as she could out the door and into the yard. Spinning, end to end, it soared in a graceful arc over the snow-covered grass and on the very edge of the yard, its blade caught, locking it there, the weeds choking the handle.

"Thanks!" Astrid called to him, racing out the door. "'Bye, Gobber. Feel better soon, Hiccup."

And with that, she'd scooped up her axe, Gobber had shut the door and Hiccup had turned on Gobber, looking hopeful. "She said 'feel better soon'. You think that means anything?"

Gobber chuckled at the hopeful expression on his apprentice's face. "I'm sure it does, lad."


	13. Chapter 13

**Uncle Gobber: Chapter 13**

**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG ST :D **

* * *

Hiccup spent the rest of the day in a curious state between sleeping and waking, often drifting off for ten-minute periods before waking suddenly, sweat running down his forehead as he looked around for the source of whatever had woken him.

He didn't seem to be getting worse, but, Gobber reflected negatively, he didn't seem to be getting better, either.

About the sixth time Hiccup woke up, Gobber felt his forehead. He rather worriedly noted that the boy was positively burning up and could only guess at how many degrees his fever must be.

He was tempted to get the village healer again, but he was certain it would be a waste of her time. She'd already said there was no cure, and she should know, better than anyone on the island.

But there was nothing more to be done.

Gobber had discovered the cause behind Hiccup's illness, that there was no quick little cure or antidote, and now all he could really do was wait.

He gazed down at the red-haired boy, his real hand still resting on his forehead. Hiccup had, by now, shivered himself back to sleep, but he was shifting and frowning, as if something in his sleep distressed him.

Though Gobber was tempted to wake him, he decided to let his apprentice sleep, before his words from the other night came floating back to him: _"It's the same dream every time and I can't get it out of my head."_

He bit his lip, wondering what the boy's nightmare was about. All the signs pointed to the fact that, though Hiccup had been healthy for weeks prior to this illness, he had been suffering emotionally for that time and now still was.

That must have been why he'd become so quiet and sarcastic lately, why his brilliant green eyes seemed to have lost their sparkle and…

Hiccup opened his eyes and mumbled sleepily, "Thank you."

"For what?" Gobber asked, smoothing down the boy's unkempt hair.

"For staying with me," Hiccup whispered, rolling over onto his side so he faced Gobber. He struggled to pull the blanket up and Gobber grabbed the blanket one handed and tucked it more securely around him. "I know you have a lot of work…" he stopped to cough and sniff, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "…and I'm really glad you're staying with me, Gobber."

"Of course I am," Gobber replied. "My little boy is sick. You honestly can't expect— He stopped himself, realizing what he'd said. He paused, waiting to see if Hiccup had heard him, half-hoping he had and half-hoping he hadn't.

It appeared Hiccup had missed Gobber's last few words. "Why am I different, Gobber?" he asked suddenly.

Gobber struggled to follow the boy's train of thought and eventually concluded he would never understand his apprentice and it was no use trying. "Err…what?"

"I'm different," Hiccup repeated. "I'm just wondering…why? I mean, why did it have to be me who was different? The other kids, they're always picking on me…" his face crumpled into a frown, as though he was half sad and half bewildered as to why it was he who was the black sheep. "I mean, I'm a Viking, just like them, right? Or…" he added, looking discouraged, "I'm supposed to be."

"Oh, don't listen to them," Gobber encouraged. "You're more a Viking than those other kids put together." This was not strictly true, as Gobber didn't think he'd ever met anyone who was as terrible at archery or senseless violence as his apprentice, but of course, he wasn't about to tell him that.

Hiccup sighed, sitting up, his back facing Gobber. "I was just wondering." He didn't seem to have taken in a word Gobber said.

"Hiccup?" Gobber said timidly. "Lad? How you feeling?"

Hiccup shrugged. "I feel fine."

Gobber reached over and felt his forehead again. His fever was still raging. "Ach. Your fever's still high, lad."

Hiccup lay back down, staring absently up at the ceiling. He coughed again. "Well, if my fever dies down soon, I'm sure I'll feel great when it does." But his voice carried no enthusiasm.

"Feel like tellin' me some things, Hiccup?" Gobber asked, laying down beside him and glancing at him before turning his own gaze to the ceiling as well.

"Whatever," Hiccup replied moodily.

"I'm just wondering…" Gobber began. "You never talk to anybody anymore."

"That's because nobody cares what Hiccup the Useless has to say," Hiccup replied simply, never looking at Gobber.

"Well, sure, those kids are world-class jerks," Gobber told him. He had a much stronger word to describe the kids of Berk, in his opinion, but thought it best not to use them, for fear of Stoick coming back and asking where Hiccup had gotten his enlarged vocabulary. "But that's not true of some people, Hiccup. What about your dad?" he regretted bringing up Stoick the instant the words left his mouth, because Hiccup's brows drew down and he turned away from Gobber, his bony shoulder blades moving up and down as he breathed in and out.

"Like he cares," Hiccup said hotly.

"Hiccup, that's not fair, he does—

"Okay, next question," Hiccup snapped.

"Hiccup," Gobber began gently.

"He doesn't care what I have to say, now can we please just talk about something else?" he demanded. There was an almost pleading note in his voice and his breathing was a little more rapid, as if he was trying to muffle a whimper.

Gobber sighed. "Yeah. Sure, lad."

Someday, Gobber thought, gazing down at the young man his apprentice had become, Stoick would be able to appreciate the son he had, instead of constantly planning around the one he wished he had.


	14. Chapter 14

**Uncle Gobber: Chapter 14**

**Here's some angst. Chew on it. I'll be back soon. **

* * *

After the awkward conversation about Stoick that Hiccup had wasted no time in shutting down, Gobber did not speak to him again for several long minutes.

"Do you think I'll ever fit in here?" Hiccup asked suddenly. He was biting his lip nervously, not looking at Gobber, as if he feared the man's answer.

There was a silence as Gobber digested the question and Hiccup seemed to find the non-answer a bad sign; he glanced quickly at Gobber before looking away again.

"'Course you will," Gobber replied bracingly. "You're gonna be the greatest of 'em all someday, Hiccup."

Hiccup raised innocent green eyes to meet dark brown ones. "You really think so?"

"I know so," Gobber told him, smoothing down the boy's messy russet hair. "You're never gonna fit in on Berk, Hiccup – you're gonna stand out, because you're one of the smartest, strongest people I know."

Hiccup wiped his nose on his sleeve and gave a smile that was half-grateful and half-sarcastic. "Don't make me laugh, Gobber. Please."

"I'm not joking," Gobber responded, squeezing the boy's small hand in his own larger one. "You're gonna be amazing, Hiccup. And when that happens, these kids will be scrambling to be your friends."

Hiccup dropped his eyes back to the floor before raising them to the ceiling again, expression thoughtful. "Hmm."

"I mean it," Gobber insisted.

Hiccup tried to stifle the yawn that threatened, but Gobber still heard it. "You should get some rest, lad. We don't want you gettin' sicker due to lack o' sleep."

Hiccup sighed, rolling over onto his side so that he faced Gobber. "I'll be fine. I'm really not that tired."

"You look pretty tired to me," Gobber commented and indeed, he did – there were deep bags under Hiccup's eyes that were so darkly colored, he appeared at first glance to have two black eyes. His face was pale and he looked gaunt and sickly. His extra, rust-red tunic was a bit snugger than his green one, making it clear to the casual observer exactly how skinny he was.

"You should get some sleep," Gobber continued and Hiccup gave up and just nodded, curling up into a ball, the way he almost always slept.

Gobber gently ruffled his hair and Hiccup smiled admiringly up at him, grateful because the man was still here, he hadn't left.

He wasn't going to leave Hiccup behind the way everybody else had.

Hiccup yawned again and this time he didn't try to stifle or stop it as he fell into a light sleep.

* * *

When Hiccup woke again, the blacksmith wasn't beside him. Hiccup sat up, the heavy red quilt falling off his shoulders and onto the floor. "Gobber?"

No answer.

He stood and walked through each room of the house as panic clawed at his heart and fear clenched his insides, twisting them up into knots.

"Gobber!" he called, louder than ever, the yells scratching at his sore throat.

Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him again, but he wouldn't let it – he had to find Gobber, and make sure the man was okay.

He ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing it up so he looked a little more awake, and then he reached out for the door handle, but before he could, somebody else yanked it open from the outside.

He drew back a little, waiting for whoever it was to enter before breathing a sigh of relief when he saw it was just Gobber. "Where were you?" he demanded, his relief lasting exactly two point five seconds, to be replaced as quickly as possible with irritation at the blacksmith for making him worry.

"Mr. Hofferson wanted to talk to me," Gobber replied. "He didn't think it was a conversation for your ears, so we took it outside."

He rolled his eyes, looking strangely bitter.

Hiccup tilted his head to the side curiously. "What did he talk to you about?"

"Nothing," Gobber replied. "Just…" he sighed, lips twisting to form that same look of bitterness again. "It was nothing, Hiccup."

"Huh," Hiccup chewed his lip for a second, wondering whether or not to push Gobber, but before he could make up his mind, Gobber was continuing on in a much brighter tone.

"So!" he announced. "Were you okay? You looked really worried when I opened the door."

Hiccup lowered his gaze to the ground. "I couldn't find you, okay? I thought something might have happened to you…I got scared."

"Well, I'm in perfect health," Gobber chuckled, motioning to his prosthetic hand. "You can go back to sleep now, if you like, Hiccup."

He wanted to protest and tell Gobber he was perfectly content to stay up with the blacksmith for a little while longer, but to be honest, the fatigue was already dragging him under.

He closed his eyes and he slept.

* * *

Gobber gazed down at the sleeping boy, replaying the last ten minutes in his head.

"_Were you okay? You looked really worried when I opened the door."_

"_I couldn't find you okay?" Hiccup snapped no conviction or anger in his voice. "I thought something might have happened to you…I got scared."_

Out of everything, this surprised him the most.

Hiccup had never been one to talk about feelings or emotions or deal with things like that. He'd preferred to do things in silence and convey what he was feeling through his actions, not his words.

Gobber and he were very different in that way: Gobber hated it when somebody was mad at him and they wouldn't just come right out and say it, while Hiccup preferred somebody to give him the silent treatment rather than yell at him.

Gobber smoothed down the boy's hair again and the boy's eyelids fluttered for a second or two before he went right back to sleep.

Gobber smiled down at him, remembering all the years in the forge they'd spent together and longing to get them back.

He used to burst in every day, dreading the distracting chatter Hiccup was sure to spew at him the moment he walked in the door.

Now, above everything else, it was his silence that the blacksmith found he dreaded the most.

But Hiccup had showed no sign of stopping that oath of silence and Gobber was almost glad Stoick was gone again, because this was the most honesty Hiccup had showed him for months.

It was the only time Gobber had gotten to really talk to Hiccup for almost a whole year. The boy was finally being honest with him, but there were still things Gobber knew he wanted to keep inside – his snappish defensiveness about his father proved that.

And yet…was he right to be angry with Stoick? Gobber didn't know. He should know, he reflected sheepishly.

Hiccup's and Stoick's fights were the talk of the village – everybody could hear them yelling at each other and not just in their house.

If Hiccup did something that disappointed him, the chief wouldn't hesitate; he'd scold him right there, in front of whoever wanted to watch.

If Stoick did something that Hiccup regarded as ridiculous or unfair or sometimes both, the boy didn't care about who heard him, either; he told his father exactly what he thought of how the man ran the island or fathered him, or sometimes both at the same time.

Let us not be misunderstood: Gobber knew they loved each other. He saw it in the sadness of their eyes; he saw it in the way Hiccup's mouth seemed to turn down at the corners more often when Stoick was gone. He saw it in the way Stoick constantly talked about him with both affection and disappointment in his voice.

But they were both so determined to be the last to bend, the last to apologize, that Gobber honestly wasn't sure how they would ever mend this, bridge the gap that had come between them.

Hiccup stirred in his sleep, mouth pulling down at the corners, a crease forming between his brows as he shifted slightly, scooting unconsciously closer to Gobber, as if even in dreams the man promised warmth and love and a father such as the boy had never had.


	15. Chapter 15

**Uncle Gobber: Chapter 15**

**Okay, speaking of 'here's some angst. chew on it'. If you guys could review, that'd be awesome. Thank you for all the reviews already! I was really surprised to realize I have 66 followers and 55 favorites on this story! :) it made me smile :) I didn't know that many people liked the Hiccup/Gobber family ship. I feel it is the third most underappreciated ship in the fandom. The second is Hiccup/Heather romantically, and the first is Hiccup/Humongous brotherly ship.**

* * *

Half an hour later, Gobber found himself wondering how long it had been since Hiccup last ate.

Looking down at the boy's skinny form, Gobber was guessing he'd never really gotten that much to eat in the first place, but he hadn't eaten or drank anything for days, and, though he didn't appear hungry or thirsty, Gobber knew that could be a bad sign.

He didn't want to wake the boy just yet, however; his apprentice just looked so peaceful in sleep that he would do anything to prolong the false sense of happiness and peace Hiccup gave off when resting.

With his eyes closed and his head resting on Gobber's good knee, the man could hardly fail to notice how innocent and sweet he looked, no matter how much his waking hours disproved the illusion.

When he was awake, Hiccup was bitter and angry, firing off hurtful and sarcastic comments to nearly anyone who came near; when he was asleep, he was back to the little boy Gobber knew and though some remnant of that innocent little boy lurked still in the way Hiccup's eyelashes rested against his freckled cheek or the way his copper hair was always plastered to the side of his head when he awoke, Gobber knew the little boy he once was, was much too far away to ever retrieve.

He smoothed Hiccup's hair down with his real hand, his prosthetic massaging the tense muscles in Hiccup's shoulders that refused to relax.

He picked up the small piece of paper Mr. Hofferson had given him, though it was clear the man hadn't trusted him to give it to Hiccup.

_Absolutely right, Gauk Hofferson, _Gobber thought mutinously, wondering whether he should simply shred the letter with his bare hands or toss it into the fire. _I refuse to be your personal mailman, especially when it comes to Hiccup. You want this so badly, you can tell him yourself._

Hiccup stirred sleepily and for a second, Gobber froze, wondering if the peaceful delusion was coming to an abrupt end, but no – Hiccup merely shifted position, turned his head so he was facing Gobber and not the popping fire and continued sleeping, shifting here and there. Hiccup had always been a light, peaceful sleeper. The only times he was ever restless were when he had…

Gobber's thoughts came to a sudden, screeching halt.

"_I tr-tried to sleep, Gobber, but I had n-nightmares…it's the same dr-dream every time and I c-can't get it out of my head."_

Gobber wasn't going to ask him, not if the boy didn't want him to know…but if the boy was willing to tell him, Gobber thought, then let him.

It might help, in a way, he reasoned. Knowing what Hiccup was so afraid of that it kept him up at night might help whenever the blacksmith was trying to talk to the boy.

Conversation lately had been stiff and forced at best; remarkably similar to one Hiccup would be likely to have with his dad at worst.

Honesty was always best when it came to Hiccup, though. If you told him the truth, then he'd do the same for you.

The moment this thought occurred to Gobber, he half-glanced down at the piece of yellowish paper with Mr. Hofferson's writing on it, several words badly misspelled (which was the mark of a true Viking).

Should he tell the boy? Was this attempt to protect him a badly misguided one? Would it cause an even bigger rift between Hiccup and…everyone, really?

He swallowed just as Hiccup shifted, sat up and rubbed his head, as if it was aching badly. He groaned softly and Gobber quickly put a comforting hand on his back, supporting him.

Hiccup gave Gobber a weak, tired smile, before glancing down and realizing he had fallen asleep in the man's lap. "Why did you…?" his voice trailed off, his question going unasked.

"Movin' you would have woken ya," Gobber responded. He didn't think Hiccup would tolerate the truer response: he honestly didn't mind.

Knowing Hiccup most likely did, he changed the subject. "How long has it been since you've eaten last, Hiccup?"

"Uh…" Hiccup looked as if he was struggling to remember. "Um…er…well…what day is it?" he asked hopefully, looking at Gobber.

"Tuesday," Gobber replied promptly.

"Thursday," Hiccup admitted in a defeated voice. "But I'm not hungry, honestly."

"Don't care," Gobber told him. "It's better for you to have something in your system, even if it's just a few sips of water or a few mouthfuls of broth. In fact, your loss o' appetite could be a bad sign, might mean you're gettin' sicker."

Hiccup looked annoyed, but Gobber insisted he at least drink a little water, so, as the man bustled off to get some, Hiccup turned his attention to a piece of yellowed paper on the floor, with the words, 'Gober's apreentise' scribbled hastily on it.

Hiccup picked it up and examined the scrawled writing for a second, slowly sliding his finger under the crease before pausing and wondering if maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Had Gobber been planning to give it to him and just forgotten? And who was it from, anyway? He knew everybody in the village knew him more commonly as 'The Village Screw-Up' but that was much too rude to put on paper when you were trying to address somebody.

Gobber came back in the room, carrying a mug full of water and humming vaguely to himself, coming back over to Hiccup and setting the cup down, sloshing a bit of water over the sides in his force. "Hey, lad," he said cheerfully, "you—what are you looking at?" His voice rose angrily, making Hiccup drop the letter; Gobber had never once yelled at him before.

"Uh…" he wasn't sure whether to be truthful or not. Lying seemed like a good idea right then, especially considering the fierce expression on Gobber's face.

The man walked forward and took the letter off the floor, stuffing it back inside his furry vest. "Don't read that."

"It was addressed to me," Hiccup pointed out quietly. "What's wrong with it?"

"Just people stickin' their noses in where they don' belong," Gobber replied gruffly. "Don' mind it, Hiccup."

"I do mind it, though," Hiccup persisted. "What's up?"

Gobber desperately wished he'd disposed of the stupid thing while Hiccup slept. "Nothin'. Just…Mr. Hofferson…you know what he's like…"

"What does he have to do with anything?"

"Just…something we—

"This is what you two talked about earlier, isn't it, Gobber?" Hiccup demanded.

Silence.

"It is, isn't it?" he pressed and so Gobber finally said, in a very harsh tone, "Yes. Yes, it was, Hiccup."

Anger was most unlike Gobber; no matter how many times Hiccup had screwed up or made trouble for the man, he'd never seen Gobber angry before. "Gobber, I—

"Astrid came down with a bug last night and when they asked her where it might have come from, she told 'em it might have been you…of course, 'er dad went crazy. Told her…" he swallowed. "Told her she wasn't to see you anymore. And then he tried tellin' me to tell you to stay away from her and…" he trailed off, stealing a hesitant glance at Hiccup to see how the boy was taking all this.

Hiccup wasn't looking at Gobber; his eyes were fixed on the wooden floor. "Good thing," he said softly, "because she never wanted to be around me anyway."


	16. Chapter 16

Uncle Gobber: Chapter 16

**Firstly - this was written on a borrowed computer. **

**Secondly - this is the last chapter. **

**Thank you, everyone, for your reviews, reads, follows and favorites! I am very grateful and very lucky! :) **

* * *

Hiccup began showing encouraging signs over the next few days – he was awake for longer periods of time, his constant shivering stopped and his forehead got cooler and cooler until at last Gobber deemed him free of fevers.

A few hours after that, Gobber convinced Hiccup to drink some water and eat a bit of broth, as Hiccup had had next to nothing to eat or drink over these last few days.

"I'm not really hungry," Hiccup protested, but Gobber still set a cup of water and a bowl of stew in front of him and announced to Hiccup that he had to eat something.

He hesitantly took the first spoonful of broth and set the bowl down again to talk to Gobber, but, within a few minutes, Gobber looked around again and noticed that the bowl was empty.

By the next morning, Hiccup's hair had once again gained its copper sheen and there was more color in his cheeks.

He still looked tired and ill, but well enough that he could pass for having come down with a nasty cold, if Stoick came back too soon.

The moment Gobber thought of Stoick, he glanced worriedly at his apprentice, who had pulled out his sketchbook and was absently scribbling away in it.

Every time Gobber had tried to bring up Stoick these past few days, Hiccup had shut him down and he seemed to be growing more distant with the blacksmith as Stoick's return drew nearer and nearer.

He scooted closer to Hiccup and put a hand on his shoulder, offering him a little smile and Hiccup glanced up, surprised that, now that he was feeling better, the blacksmith was still showing him the same gentle affection he had been.

He poked absently at the page his sketchbook was open to, and mumbled, "We should probably get to sleep soon, huh?"

"Yep," Gobber responded easily. "We probably should."

"Um…are…are you going back to your house tonight?" Hiccup blurted.

Gobber shrugged. "I don't think so, not until I'm sure you're completely better. 'Sides, your house is quieter. Nice little break from the forge."

Hiccup drew his knees up to his chest. "Yeah," he whispered, picking a piece of lint off the blanket that Gobber no longer felt guilty letting him have, "quiet…" his voice trailed off, and for a second, Gobber thought he wasn't going to complete his sentence and then Hiccup picked it back up again. "It's lonely."

Gobber glanced at his apprentice in surprise, but Hiccup wasn't looking at him. He leaned forward to blow out the candle, their only source of light.

* * *

A few minutes after Stoick docked was when the complaints had started, and, since then, they hadn't stopped.

"—He wearing pink shoes—

"…'I believe in fairies'…"

"—With _ribbons_ on his helmet, Stoick, _ribbons_—

"…Holding a cardboard sign…"

"Yes, it said 'stop if you think I'm cute, didn't it, Spitelout?"

"If you stopped to read it—

"SHUT UP OR I'LL POUND YOU!"

"YOU DON'T HAVE A HOPE OF POUNDING ME!"

"I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU SAY THAT TO MY FACE! I COULD POUND YOU WITH ONE HAND BEHIND MY BACK!"

"WELL, KISS MY BIG ROUND, HAIRY VIKING—

"Okay, okay!" Stoick cut smoothly through the arguing and complaints. "What is going on?"

Spitelout hurriedly answered. "Your son and Gobber…they've gone crazy these past few weeks…and then they locked themselves in your house during a rainstorm and haven't been out since."

"What exactly do you mean, they've gone crazy?" Stoick asked.

"Well," Mr. Ingerman answered, "your son was holding a sign out in his front yard that read, 'stop if you think I'm cute'. Oh, and he did the Can-Can kick while he held it."

"WHAT?!" Stoick demanded, hoping dearly that he had heard wrongly.

"Yes, and then Gobber…he was wearing all pink, Stoick, like, all pink— Spitelout began. "And…er…he began talking about 'true natures'…"

Stoick took a breath and vowed to himself that he would get to the bottom of this. "Anything else?" he braced himself for the worst.

* * *

That night, as Hiccup, Gobber and Stoick sat around the kitchen table in the Haddock house, Stoick set his mug down and glanced meaningfully over at his son. He never had the best time communicating with his son, but today he was determined to get the truth out of him about his strange behavior this week. "Hiccup?" he asked casually, staring into the depths of his mug as if it held all the secrets of the universe.

"Yeah?" Hiccup looked a little nervous, as if he expected to be yelled at. He drummed his fingers restlessly on the table. Stoick suspected he looked ill and he certainly appeared to be in dire need of a good meal or two. He also looked like he could use a good night's sleep – there were circles under his eyes.

"So…did anything interesting happen while I was gone?" Stoick began in an innocently curious voice.

"Uh…what…what sort of—

"Like, maybe, did you and Gobber…get into any trouble, maybe?"

Stoick thought his son's cheeks colored momentarily, and, when he looked at Gobber, his lips twitched. The blacksmith also looked like he was fighting a smile.

And then the boy simply shrugged. "Nah," he said. "Nothing interesting."


End file.
